Bonded by Blood
by lwdgrl782
Summary: At eighteen, Stephen finds out who his birth mother is, and is determined to find out more about her story and his psychotic uncle. But he's about to find out that if you go looking for answers you just might find them.


**A/N: I've been planning this for a long time. I'm a huge fan of the **_**Halloween **_**franchise, but I've always been angry over the fact that H20 made 4, 5 and 6 invalid, and I always thought it would have been cool (and better overall) in H7 had followed Jamie's baby. Thus, here I am, writing this. I was originally going to give this a "T" rating, but there will be something **_**much **_**later in this story that, if I wanted to write it as a PG-13 thing, would have its quality compromised and would lack the poignancy I'm going for. I will give a warning when I get to the chapter I'm talking about. Anyway, here goes nothing.**

Chapter 1

The small town of Allenton, Missouri, which on a map lies about twenty miles away from the invisible line which separates Missouri from Illinois, was buzzing about Halloween being less than 48 hours away. Naturally, the children had their costumes by this time. They had all, some as early as four weeks ago, gone to the stores with their parents, and, after picking out what they deemed fit, brought home their new treasures to where they lived. All of them had worn their costumes at least twice prior to the holiday, some so excited that they ate dinner in their costumes the night of the purchase. In such times of frenzy, it was hard to believe that a good ninety percent of them would never even look at the costumes again after Halloween had passed and November began.

While these young children were busy discussing costumes and anticipating candy and inevitable toothaches from these very sweets, adults hung up decorations both in and around the houses. The traditional jack-o-lantern donned every front porch. Orange and purple lights lit up every window on every block. Cut-outs of black cats, goblins, broomsticks, and ghosts guarded the windows and reflected the light from the orange and purple bulbs. Some people even went as far as to teepee their own houses, throwing rolls of toilet paper up in angles toward the roof, hoping some sheets would catch on the roof and dangle off of it nicely.

Yet, the teenage population wasn't without amusement as they told urban legends of nearby towns to anyone who would listen, and more often than not, the only people who would listen were friends.

"Hey, Stephen!" Jonathan called to his friend since kindergarten from across the high school campus. It was three-thirty in the afternoon, dismissal time at the high school. He walked briskly to catch up to his friend, and started a conversation in the middle of doing so. "You're not waiting for anyone. Am I supposed to take this as some sort of an insult?" It was a tongue-in-cheek question that required no response, but Stephen found himself answering, anyway.

"That depends. Is there anything I should be insulted about?" These remarks of an almost teasing nature were the only things Stephen would ever say that contained even the slightest bit of sarcasm. He never gave anything but a straightforward answer, and was known for being an honest person, even though at first glance he could be taken for the stereotypical not-bad-looking high school jock.

On his good days, his black hair had a slight curl to it, and even in the winter his skin was ever-so-slightly tanned. Since freshman year he had been six feet tall, and with his eighteenth birthday being fewer than twenty-four hours away, he was glad that he had managed to not become a giant, although he was still about two inches taller than Jonathan was.

They heard footsteps and what sounded like feet running toward them, and looking up, Stephen could see his girlfriend Amber, and another friend, Peter, trying to catch up to them. He lightly gripped Jonathan's arm, and they both stopped and waited.

"You know, it's funny," Jonathan quipped. "You don't wait for me, but you wait for _her. _That's what twelve years of friendship gets me." It was said lightly and Stephen laughed at the truth the statement held.

"Thanks for waiting," Peter piped. "We thought we'd lost you back there with all these leaves making me trip every God damn step. It's really hard to try and catch up to people like this, you know that?" They were starting to move again, and exited the gate of the town high school and made a right turn.

"Peter, you're just a clutz," Amber retorted. She'd made her way over to Stephen's left side and moved close enough so he could put an arm around her. "There were no slippery leaves like you're saying. You just got the key to the liquor cabinet again last night." Laughter rang the street and reverberated back to them.

"No, I didn't," Peter responded almost defensively. "But," and the word had a mischievous sound, "I could work on getting that for _tomorrow._" He turned to Stephen and awaited approval.

"Wait, who said we're doing anything tomorrow? I still have that project I need to do."

"Procrastinating _again, _Stephen?" It was Jonathan who made the wise remark this time.

"Yep, that's right, I did. And I am going to _completely _regret it."

"So do it tonight and have fun with us tomorrow! Do you r_eally _want to spend your eighteenth birthday doing something you won't give a damn about once you've handed in?" It was hard to tell if Peter was genuinely concerned about Stephen missing an opportunity, or if he just wanted to search for the key.

"Or better yet," Amber added, "We do something _tonight._"

"Not a good idea," Stephen added. "My parents want to talk with me when I get home and I'm ninety percent sure I did something wrong."

"Well then when are we doing this?" A hint of irritation was in Peter's voice until he playfully added, "No one knows if we're surviving Halloween night and will be alive to do something over the weekend."

"Oh, here we go again," Jonathan huffed. "What is it this year? A fifty foot bat is going to jump out and eat us?"

"I've never said anything as stupid as murderous bats before. No, I was thinking more along the lines of, some psycho could decide to stalk us the whole night and kill us off one by one."

"You're sick, you know that?" Jonathan asked the question rhetorically and continued the bickering.

"Hey, that reminds me," Amber chided. "Do you guys remember those urban legends about that town in Illinois, Haddonfield, was it?" There was no answer, and she continued with her description. "You know, about that guy who killed his sister about fifty years ago, and then in the seventies came back for the other one?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, I do now," Peter responded. "You mean Michael Myers."

"Yeah, that's the one. I wonder if that stuff really happened."

"It did," Stephen said suddenly. "My parents, they used to live in Illinois. They said that when they were growing up it was all anyone could talk about. My mom was about twenty when Michael and his niece disappeared in eighty-nine."

"I've never heard the story about the niece," Jonathan remarked. "I had only heard about that Laurie Strode girl."

"Well, my parents never openly discussed it with _me_ either_._ Most of the stuff I know about it I heard from other people, and any time my parents _did _talk about it was because I begged them to tell me. I guess it was traumatic for them." There was a silence after this, and they rounded the corner that Stephen's house was on. Compared to the other houses, it was sparingly decorated.

"I'll text you guys later and let you know if we'll be doing anything over the weekend," he commented, lightening the mood. He saw the others nod in agreement, and unlocked the door to the house.


End file.
